Forgotten Hero
by HPNewsie
Summary: "Hate to break it to you Dave, but you ain't never known the kind of pain we have."
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So I haven't had that much of a chance to write lately, but I am VERY excited about finally starting my first multi chapter! So I'm going to give you guys a little background about it before you read it.**

 **So Davey is basically my favorite character from Newsies (along with Jack). And I've noticed that in a lot of fan fiction, Davey is constantly being ostracized because he has a house and he has parents, and hasn't grown up with the newsies. A lot of times his problems are portrayed as being less significant and serious than those of the other newsies, and Davey is always accused of not understanding what the newsies go through. And Davey is so much more than the smart kid with the little brother. So this story is pretty much my idea of what Davey goes through that the newsies don't understand, and Davey's life and his relationship with Les and his parents and with the newsies. So yeah, this story is dedicated to Davey Jacobs and all of the wonderful actors who have played him. :)**

 **Hope you guys enjoy! And please please review and let me know what you think of the first chapter! I'm super excited about this story and about giving Davey some time in the spotlight.**

"Are you sure Mush is going to be okay Jack?" Romeo asked quietly, his voice unsteady. "Cause last time someone got sick-"

"We all know what happened last time," Jack said tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "There's no point talking about it." He looked around at the rest of the newsies, sprawled out on their beds, but not one of them asleep. Except for Mush, who had finally slipped into a restless doze on a bunk in the corner of the room.

"You know, Les had what Mush has a while ago. He puked a lot, and he had a fever, and he felt awful, but he was fine. Really, Mush is okay. It's not serious." Davey said awkwardly, trying his hardest to say something helpful.

Jack shook his head warningly at Davey. When the newsies were upset or worried, logic only made them more agitated. Jack knew Davey had no way of knowing the "last time" Romeo was referencing; after all, he had only been a newsie for just over two months. Jack was sure Davey would have shut up had he known. But the rest of the newsies wouldn't be thinking clearly enough to understand that.

The Lodging House was already so tense, the air so thick with concern for Mush, who had been sick for three days now, that Jack was certain an argument was about to break out any second. Deep down, Jack knew that Mush truly was okay. Jack had seen lots of sickness in his life, and he knew this wasn't the kind that you needed to worry about. But like the other newsies, Jack couldn't shake off the memory of what had happened last time he hadn't paid enough attention to an illness.

Henry finally broke the quiet. "Shut up," he muttered, glaring at Davey. "What do you know about anything?" Davey's eyes widened, and Jack winced. Henry was sarcastic and sometimes rude by nature, but when he got anxious, he was almost unbearable.

The Lodging House settled back into silence, although the mood had grown darker and the tension had heightened. Jack prayed that Davey would be smart enough to grasp the situation and stop talking for once. It wasn't Davey's fault, he hadn't really done anything wrong, but his attempts at reasoning weren't doing anything to help.

Jack surveyed the Lodging House. Most of the younger newsies were slumped against Crutchie, who was trying to hide his concern by smiling at everyone. Race was sitting alone, looking like he wanted to kill someone, and Les sat nearby, his eyes wide. Jack knew they were all overreacting, but honestly, he couldn't blame them.

"We should go, Les," Davey said suddenly, standing up. "It's late, and there's clearly nothing we can do to help here."

Jack winced again. That was most definitely the wrong thing to say.

And sure enough, Race leapt to his feet, the murderous look in his eyes now directed at Davey. "Yeah, that's right," Race yelled. "Why don't you just go home to your parents? Just go. 'Cause I bet when you get sick, your parents take care of you and call a doctor for you right away, huh Dave? And you got your own damn house, don't you Davey? Yeah, you do. And you didn't spend your entire life getting beat up every other day either. Hate to break it to you Dave, but you ain't never known the kind of pain we have. So you's right, there ain't nothin' you can do to help here. 'Cause you know what happened last time one of us got sick? Specs almost _died._ Yeah, that's right. Died. Because we couldn't get afford to get him a doctor. We thought he was fine too, just like you said about Mush. So take your damn kid brother and GET OUT of here and shut up trying to be the boss of us!" Race shoved Davey aggressively and swore, then stormed out of the room.

All eyes were on Davey, who stood, unmoving, with an expression on his face that clearly showed that he was about to explode. "Come on Les," he said sharply. "We're going now."

For the first time since Jack had known them, Les didn't object to his brother's order. Les nodded and crossed the room to Davey, looking like he might cry. Davey grabbed Les's shirt collar harshly and kept a firm grip on it, and Jack rose to his feet, racking his brains for something he could to say to Davey, but he came up empty.

"Davey-" Jack started, approaching him, but Davey shook his head. "It's fine Jack." Davey nodded coolly in Mush's direction. "Make sure he drinks enough water," he said calmly. Then he walked out of the lodging house, still grasping Les's shirt tightly with one hand and slamming the door with the other.

Jack grunted in frustration. "Race," he called softly, struggling to contain the anxiety and irritation that he could feel building up inside of him.

Race stomped back into the room, his arms crossed. "What do you want Jack? Gonna yell at me for having a go at your pal?"

Jack put his head in his hands, acutely aware that the rest of the newsies were watching him. "That ain't fair, Race." Jack said. "He couldn't have known about Specs, he's only been here a couple months. He was only trying to help. And besides that, he's right- Mush is gonna be fine, we just gotta give it some time. So no, I ain't gonna yell at you, but I want you to start treating Dave nicer, hear me? He's one of the most loyal guys I's ever met, and he's done a lot for all of us. He's part of the family, and so is Les. " Jack turned to the rest of the boys. "Now get to bed guys. We all need to sleep, and when you wake up, Mush'll be a hell of a lot better, I promise." There were murmurs of assent throughout the room, and Jack could tell that most of them were relieved to finally be going to sleep.

Crutchie eased Romeo off his arm and limped over to Jack, allowing an expression of worry show on his face for the first time all evening.

"Hey Jack, I don't know if this is the time, but -I think Davey's been a little off lately. He just seems, I dunno, kind of upset. More than usual. And he doesn't smile so much as he used to when he first came here, and he looks tired all the time. You got any idea what's wrong with him?"

Jack shook his head tiredly. "Trust me, I've noticed it too, and I got no clue. I thought he'd tell me if he had a problem, but ya never know with Dave, do you?" Jack frowned thoughtfully. "I'll work on it, and you let me know if ya figure anything out, okay Crutch?" Crutchie nodded. "Poor guy. The fellas gave him a real rough time tonight. Well, we're gonna find out what's up with him and fix it, ain't we?" Jack gaved Crutchie a weary smile and ruffled his hair.

"Night kid," Jack said, and headed to the roof, as Crutchie limped over to his bed.

Usually, the roof helped Jack clear his mind, and he was able to think of nothing but his dreams, however unrealistic they may be. But tonight Jack was consumed with thoughts about Davey. He knew something must be going on with his best friend, something Davey had never talked about with him before. And Jack knew that if he didn't figure it out soon, thing were only going to get worse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys- I'm so so sorry I haven't posted anything in forever! I've been insanely busy and have had a lot of personal stuff going on, so I couldn't really make updating this story a priority. I did, however, see Newsies very recently and met a lot of the cast- they were absolutely incredible! It was an amazing experience.**

 **Anyway, I know this is a fairly short, slow chapter, but I promise it will end up being important to the plot. I'm going to tentatively say that I should be updating more regularly now, but I can't say for sure. I hope you are all still liking the story, and please leave a review! They truly make my day. I hope you are all good!**

"Davey?" Les asked tentatively, looking up at his brother. The two of them were walking home, Les could see that Davey was in a terrible mood. Les knew from experience that Davey's bad moods were scary, and usually Les would shut up until they got home and wait for it to pass. But Les wanted to know what was wrong with his brother, because he knew what Race had said wouldn't usually bother Davey so much. Davey was used to people getting mad at him.

"What, Les?" David said tersely. His eyes were focused straight in front of him and he was walking fast, so fast that Les was having trouble keeping up.

"Why did Race yell at us?" Les asked. "You were just trying to help, right?"

Something in Davey seemed to break. "Yeah," he sighed. "I guess he just couldn't see that. I mean I know he's worried, and I get that, but I just though it'd been long enough… I don't know Les. I really don't know."

"Ok," Les said quietly. He didn't want to press the matter, even though he was secretly very upset that Race, someone he considered a friend and a brother, had yelled at them the way he did.

The brothers walked in silence for a while until Les suddenly grabbed Davey's hand.

"Are we gonna sell tomorrow Dave?" Les asked, looking up at his brother's face. "Race didn't sound like he wanted us to come back."

"Of course we are," Davey replied. "We don't really have a choice, Dad still hasn't gotten a job yet. And besides, I'm sure he didn't really mean any of that. Don't worry about it, okay Les? Come on, we're almost home."

Les and Davey walked up the seven flights of stairs to their apartment, Les lagging behind from exhaustion. Usually Les would be sprinting up the stairs, hurrying to tell his parents about how many papes he'd sold or about something funny Jack had done, but Les didn't care today. There wasn't anything to be excited about today.

Davey opened the door, and Les immediately ran to his and Davey's room. He couldn't face his parents right now. He heard Davey speaking quietly to his father, and Les knew he was probably making something up to explain Les's behavior. Davey never really liked telling their parents about their day, whether it was because he wanted to keep it private or he thought their parents would disapprove, Les had no idea.

From his position lying facedown on the bad, Les heard Davey walk in the room, and Les felt the old, slightly broken bed sink with his brother's weight as he sat down.

"I don't like this," Les burst out. "Everything's wrong! Aren't we newsies too Davey? Aren't we? Why was everyone acting like we were strangers or something?"

"We've been over this," Davey said calmly. "They were just worried about Mush, and I probably said all the wrong things and made everything worse, and Race has a bad temper. You know all that. It has nothing to do with you Les, I promise. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine." Les noticed Davey's voice getting more strained as he kept talking, but his words were strangely comforting. Jack would make Race calm down, everything would be back to normal in the morning, and Les was too tired to worry about what Davey was feeling. He felt himself slowly losing consciousness, and then he was asleep.

* * *

Les stared at the ceiling of the bedroom. He had only been awake for a few minutes, but it was still the middle of the night, and he somehow couldn't make himself go back to sleep. Everything was quiet, except for the sound of Davey's breathing and the sound of someone moving around down on the street, probably a bum trying to scrounge up a meal. Les rolled over and was just about to fall back asleep when he heard a new sound. A sound like the noises Romeo made when he woke up in the middle of the night thinking about his parents, or the noises Specs made when remembered how badly his dad had hurt him, sounds Les knew well from the nights he had spent at the lodging house. But he had never heard Davey make one of those sounds, and Les suddenly felt very unsettled.

"Davey," Les whispered, prodding his brother in the back. "Are you crying?"

"Go back to sleep, Les," Davey mumbled in response. "I'm okay."

Les didn't say anything else. Davey may have said he was okay, but Les knew what he heard. Davey was crying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! I hope you guys all had an amazing holiday!**

 **Again, I'm so sorry about the delay in posting chapters. I've been super busy, but I still am really excited about this story so I will definitely be TRYING to post more regularly. I know it's taking forever for the story to kind of start moving quickly, but it's really important for everything to be developed and set up in the beginning.**

 **Anyway, thank you all infinitely much for the reviews. They are all so motivating and I get excited every time someone leaves one. Thank you especially to Marcelle for your wonderful words- you are one of my favorite fanfiction writers and seeing you comment on my stories makes me so happy! I've been planning out some Race and Romeo brotherly moments for future chapters just for you. ;)**

 **So I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for all the support. :)**

The distribution center was loud as usual as Davey and Les walked towards the newsies who were waiting in line for their papers. Davey noticed that Les's mood had improved greatly since the previous night and he seemed to be acting more himself. Davey knew Les loved greeting all the newsies in the morning: teasing the Delancey brothers with Buttons and having Jack read him the headlines and making secret bets with JoJo- all rituals the Les didn't want Davey to know about for various reasons but that Davey observed with amusement despite slight disapproval. Davey smiled at Les's excitement but almost immediately stopped himself as he remembered his own situation. Everything inside Davey wanted to go home and stay there, but that was in no way an option.

Davey was waiting in line alone, vaguely aware of Les talking to Specs behind him. The tension from last night seemed to have dissipated; none of the newsies looked worried at all in fact. Davey noted with some satisfaction that he had indeed been right: Mush was clearly fine.

All of a sudden Davey felt a weight land on his back, and groaning with a small smile he turned around to see Jack.

"Mornin' Dave," Jack said with a grin, slapping a stack of papers into Davey's hands. "Bought you your papes."

"Why?" Davey asked suspiciously. "You've never done that before"

"Well, if I'm bein' honest, I felt kinda bad about last night and everything. The boys was all grumpy and tired and they was giving you a hard time and you didn't deserve it. Mush is fine- I left Henry back at the lodging house with him just to be safe but he was awake and laughing this morning. Everyone's calmed down now, and Race has got something to say- Race, get over here."

Jack turned around and called him Race over, who reluctantly approached, aggressively chewing on his cigar. Jack slung his arm around Race and elbowed him in the side. "Go ahead," he prompted.

Race glared at Jack, who knocked Race's hat down and grinned. "Okay, Davey, I'm sorry. I was a real pain last night, and you's a pretty great newsie. And Les too. So yeah, sorry about all that. Okay?" He spit in his hand, and Davey did the same, and the two shook. Race shoved Jack one last time and then headed off.

"See?" Jack said. "His stupid head is clear now, everything's okay." Davey smiled. Sometimes Jack's sensitivity surprised him- no one else besides Jack would have known Davey well enough to figure out that what Race said had really hurt him.

Davey suddenly became aware of Jack studying him with a concerned expression. "Actually Dave, is everything okay? Crutchie and I were- talking- the other night and we sorta realized that you's been acting kinda upset. You know, you're my best pal- if anything's the matter you can tell me."

Davey felt a wave of emotion rising up inside him that he thought might just make itself known through tears. He wanted to tell Jack everything. Jack was his best friend- he would trust him with his life, with Les's life, with absolutely anything in the world. But he just couldn't do it. Davey refused to believe that he was the type of person who couldn't cope with his own problems and as much as he would love to spill everything to Jack, Davey was too strong for that. He forced the tears back down into his throat and took a shaky breath.

 _One more day, Davey. You just have to think about it that way. You can do this for one more day._

"I'm fine Jack," Davey said, well aware that he didn't look fine at all. "You don't have to worry about me, I can take care of myself. Now come on, we've got papes to sell." Davey punched Jack in the shoulder and the two joined the crowd of newsies, who were gathered together one last time before splitting up to sell.

The newsies were excessively welcoming to Davey, all making sure to come up to him and make a joke or play around or give him some of their secret selling tips- Romeo even gave him a hug. It only made Davey want to cry even more. Their support and friendship was beyond anything Davey had ever experienced and he felt like an idiot for overreacting the night before. Davey cursed himself for being so ridiculously emotional, and slung his bag over his shoulder.

Les ran up to Davey and looked up at him. "Ready to go Davey?" he asked. Davey felt a pang of overwhelming panic. "Uh, actually Les, I think it's better if you go with Jack today, does that sound okay?" Les looked at his brother in confusion but quickly nodded happily and began to run off. "Hey- HEY!" Davey yelled. "Stay with Jack!" As Les rolled his eyes and murmured his compliance, Davey mumbled to himself under his breath. " I don't need worry about you today too."

And so, with Les safely in Jack's care and his fifty papers safely tucked in his bag, Davey took one last encouraging breath and steeled himself for a day of selling alone in the crazy city of New York. He didn't know what was going to happen to him today, but Davey promised himself that he would get through it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi everyone! I am finally back with more of this story. I know it's been literally half a year since I updated, but I've been so busy and so much stuff has been going on. I have been thinking about this story a lot, and I finally had some time to squeeze in a little chapter before I finish my school year. Once summer starts, I'm planning on updating weekly, like actually, so that should be fun! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. This story is very much about building tensions, so that's why these chapters are sort of slow. Also I know some parts of the beginning have been kind of cliche, but I promise you it will start moving soon.**

 **So yeah, I hope you like this, look forward to more frequent updates in the near future (I can actually promise that) and please please leave a review! Enjoy!**

Les ran the last few paces to newsies square, leaving Jack carrying his leftover papes behind him. It had been a good day- no, a great day, one of the best. Jack had been unbelievably fun, never saying no the whole day to anything Les had proposed. He had agreed to hawk Les's own made up headlines, which Jack usually said were too far fetched for anyone to believe, he bought Les a slice of cake after lunch, and even begrudgingly agreed to go exploring. Selling with Jack was always great, but today had been almost perfect.

Les had knelt down to pet a stray dog when Jack caught up to him. The other newsies were starting to get return and sell their extra papers back, getting ready to head back to the lodging house for the night. As he greeted them, Les scanned the throng of newsboys for Davey. If there had been one thing wrong with the day, it had been that he hadn't seen his brother at all, and although Les sometimes wouldn't admit it, he loved selling with Davey. Thinking back to his brother's strange behavior this morning and his failure to come back on time, Les started to get a little bit worried. He buried his face in the dogs dingy fur to try and mask his concern.

Jack smirked at him. "What are ya doing down there kid? You wanna catch fleas?" He scratched the dogs head and pulled Les up from the ground.

"Hey Jack? Where's Davey?" Les asked, ignoring Jacks comment and hoping for a reassuring and confident response. Jack looked surprised and glanced around the distribution center.

"I guess I don't know Les. We ain't seen him all day have we? I'll ask around, I'm sure one of the boys saw him today."

But no one had, and Les could see Jack starting to get a little bit concerned too. It wasn't like Davey at all to be late, especially when he always nagged everyone else about it. Les grabbed Jack's hand and suddenly decided that he would have traded in all the good things from today to be standing next to Davey right now.

"It's okay Les. It's not even nighttime yet, we'll wait. He'll come. He's allowed to be late, even if you ain't." Jack smiled and punched Les in the shoulder, and began shepherding the newsies back to the lodging house. They all looked kind of worried now- Davey never did things like this, he would have let them know if there was something he had to do. Race looked a little guilty.

As Les trudged forward to the lodging house, he felt aware of Jacks arm tight around his shoulders, so that every time he tried to look back to scour the city for his brother he was stopped. In the back of his mind, he knew Jack was doing it on purpose, because every time Les turned around he only felt more panicked at the sight of a Davey-less newsies square. Les was mad at himself for being so afraid- he was always complaining about Davey bugging him, but he apparently couldn't even make it a day without him.

The newsies reached the lodging house, the atmosphere quieter than usual. Jack let go of Les and whispered something into Crutchie's ear.

Les sat in the corner picking at the material on his hat while the newsies talked to each other. He knew everything was fine, Davey was fine, but he couldn't believe it. He'd believe it when Davey came back.

"Alright boys, it's time to start looking" Jack said, smacking the old paper he'd been holding against his thigh. " It's near 9, he must be in trouble. We gotta find him."

The newsies muttered their assent, and Les watched in a panic. He couldn't stand not knowing what was going on. Everything felt wrong and disconnected and he knew he was overreacting but suddenly he could only see Crutchie and Jack whispering urgently to each other and Specs shifting his weight nervously and Romeo chewing his sleeve. Les hadn't even been this scared during the strike, when Wiesel and the strike breakers had come, because at least then he had been with Davey the whole time. Jack was always telling him how dangerous New York could be, and although Les had always felt thrilled about living in a city full of adventure, now he wished it weren't true.

Jack and Crutchie came over to Les and Jack knelt down calmly. "Hey kid, we're gonna go and look for your brother okay? You're gonna stay here with Crutchie, and we'll be back soon with Davey."

Les shook his head. "I wanna come!" He said. "He's my brother!"

"Les, I don't know how to say this, but uh, we don't want you to have to... See anything, that's- you know-" Crutchie shot Jack a warning glance. "Look, what I's saying is that we don't want you out at night. So you's staying."

Les sighed. He supposed it wouldn't make any difference if he was there or not. He trusted Jack to find Davey, and if Jack thought he'd get in the way, he'd stay behind. He nodded weakly.

"Thanks Les. Now don't worry, okay? Everything's okay. " Jack patted Les on the arm and made eye contact with Crutchie, and then left, splitting the rest of the newsies into groups.

Les watched the newsies leave the lodging house and decided that if Davey came back safely he'd never complain about anything again. He wished harder than he had wished anything before that his brother was okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi everyone! First of all, thank you to everyone who has left me a review, either on the last chapter and on my one-shot I recently posted. Shoutout to thepopcornpup and ValandMarcelle- you guys both are such great writers and feedback from you means so much to me!**

 **I'm so excited to be posting this chapter- I've been working on it for a long time and it's going to be a big part of moving the story along. It's a long one, but I really hope you guys enjoy it!**

 **Please let me know what you think! :)**

Davey cursed. He usually made a point to avoid doing so, but Les wasn't around, and he felt that given the situation, it was appropriate.

His right eye throbbed and his left side was killing him. It was his ribs, he guessed. At least a few of them must be cracked. He knew he was also covered in bruises, had a bloody nose, and a deeply scraped arm. Davey knew he should be grateful he wasn't bleeding out of any of his vital organs, but he was finding it hard to feel grateful about anything at the moment, given the excruciating pain he was in. That combined with the fact that life seemed to be doused in utter hopelessness, he thought, more than justified a curse word.

Davey knew he had about six more blocks to walk until he would reach Katherine's apartment. It really wasn't very far, but every step hurt, and Davey was exhausted. Regardless of the relatively short distance, it wouldn't be easy, that was certain.

Davey decided he needed a break. He curled his fingers around a nearby lamppost, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to stay standing. He was vaguely aware of the realization that this had probably been the worst day of his entire life, and the past few weeks had all been leading up to this ironically terrible nightmare of a climax.

For the first time all day, Davey was able to collect himself enough to think back to when it all began, in a way that was somewhat rational. He decided that he would give himself five minutes of a break; five minutes to let the lamppost support his weight and to let his mind remember everything, and then he would put all of his effort into moving forward. It was crucial that he get to Katherine's before any of the newsies found him. That is, of course, if they were even looking.

Davey took a shaky breath, passed a hand lightly over his ribcage, and closed his eyes. Five minutes. 

It had all begun weeks ago. Davey remembered that it had been a normal day—reasonably warm for the beginning of November, a fair headline—everything had been regular and routine in the best of ways. Davey had been happy: happy with his life as a newsie, happy with his new friends, happy with the knowledge that he and those new friends had formed a family that had done something incredible together. He had been getting better at selling papers too, under the expert tutelage of Jack Kelly. Crutchie had been right: Jack truly was the best.

If there was one thing Davey was grateful for, it was that he had happened to be selling alone on the day that it all started. Les had been with Race and Romeo and Jack had had something to take care of in the Bronx. And so Davey had been left to fend for himself, to choose his own spot instead of being constantly on the move as he was with Jack, and prove to everyone (and himself) that he could sell as much as his kid brother.

He'd decided that it was best to stick with an area he knew. He'd finally settled on a street near his old school, and he had been met with immediate success. He hadn't been there in a while, so it had been good to see what the place looked like. And everyone passing by had genuinely wanted to know what was really going on in the world, so Davey hadn't even had to make anything up. He had been feeling very proud of himself.

And then, about an hour before the end of the selling day, Davey had seen a gang of familiar faces approaching, and everything had gone south. He should have known that he couldn't have avoided them forever; he was lucky to have made it to November without an encounter.

Davey had tried to cover his face with a paper and turn the other way, but he knew they'd seen him. Even worse, he knew that he was their target.

"Well, look who it is," a voice had said sarcastically. Davey could never forget that voice—it belonged to Sam Gates.

Sam Gates and his crew, all of whom had incessantly tormented Davey since he'd been about Les's age, had stood in front of him, smirking. Davey had gone to school with them for as long as he could remember, and they remained a large part of why Davey hated the school system. They were the worst kind of students: idiotic, arrogant, rich, and from families who were significant benefactors of the school. They put no effort whatsoever into anything requiring the use of brainpower, and instead directed their energy towards ruining the lives of those who did. Davey had never seen the point of them even attending school, but they were the rich kids, the sons of publishing giants and company owners and managers and politicians, so it would have been ridiculous for them not to. And of course, they could get away with anything, considering that their parents were the reason the school even existed in the first place. Davey had always hated them with a sort of dull anger even exempting the things they'd done to him; they were just another example of how screwed up society was.

Sam and the others had taken a special interest in Davey. There weren't many poor kids in school, and the ones who were usually didn't show any particular aptitude for any intellectual matters, having spent their entire lives being prepared for a life of simple labor. So Davey, with his intelligence and his determination to be the best, had been an obvious focus. Since he had been ten or eleven, Sam and his gang had roughed him up almost every day, and Sam had always demanded that Davey do his schoolwork for him. Davey hadn't really had a choice in the matter: it had either been a black eye (which he couldn't have let anyone see, let alone the pain of it) or an extra half hour of homework every day. It had become normal practice for Davey, something he just accepted. Sam kept his violence to a minimum of shoving, smacking, and slamming, nothing that would leave bruises, as long as Davey gave him work that kept Sam significantly above a failing mark.

Davey, of course, had never told anyone. His father was obsessed with the idea of Davey attending school, Les too. Mr. Jacobs had always made such a big deal about the education he had never gotten to have that it had been drilled into Davey's brain that school was all that mattered. Davey couldn't very well tell his father that school was in fact miserable for him, and only partly because Davey was a little afraid it wouldn't matter: Mr. Jacobs had prioritized his sons' education over all else, and Davey knew he wasn't allowed to do or say anything at all that might challenge that.

So Davey had lived with it. The bulk of his school years had been shadowed by Sam, his father's expectations, a mostly dormant disgust for the system itself, and a deep loneliness. Davey had been instantly taken back to all of that when he saw Sam again—he'd let most of the memories fade when he'd become a newsie.

"Davey Jacobs, selling papers on a street corner," Sam had snickered. "Now this is interesting."

"What, you haven't heard about me Sam?" Davey had said steadily. "The newsboy strike that was such a big deal over the summer? I helped lead it."

Sam had laughed. "Oh yeah, I know. I just never could find you, Davey. Been looking for you ever since I heard what you were doing. You know, school just isn't the same without you." The words themselves were kind, but Sam had a special way of making them sound nasty.

"All right, well good to see you Sam, bye," Davey had tried brushing him off, hoping that all Sam wanted was to poke a little fun at him. Unfortunately, that hadn't been the case.

"Ah, not so fast," Sam had grabbed Davey's shoulder and jerked him around. "You thought we were, what, just going to say hi and move along? Think again, Davey Jacobs. See, you're a special kid. As obnoxious and worthless and pathetic as you are, you've got a real brain, and I'm going to take full advantage of it. I know you can't afford to come back to school or some shit like that, but it's going to be in your best interest to help me out anyway. Okay?" Davey had felt the first stirring of fear then, and he'd begun to realize what was really going to happen that afternoon. He had seen the four other boys from his school surround him, and he had given up on any small hope that he'd go home unharmed.

And sure enough, it had been like school all over again. Dragged into an alley, shoved around, taunted—and it all hurt more than Davey had remembered. Not only the pain, the pain that didn't really leave any bruises, because Davey knew that Sam liked to keep it so that what he did to people wasn't obvious; it was just Sam's way. Davey had been surprised again by how much physical pain one could inflict without leaving any evidence. But also, Sam Gates had a unique and unparalleled gift for inducing pain with words. To be fair, he didn't have a great many at his disposal, considering the fact that his lack of effort in school had far outweighed the duration of his education, but he had a way of twisting certain words into tools that could make someone hurt inexplicably. It was all the talk about friendship, Davey thought. How Davey had never had a friend in his life (which was true) and he'd never be happy and he'd never have the relationships he wanted and things that had made Davey feel like a little kid, because after all this time hearing them, they shouldn't have hurt anymore. But they hurt worse because it had been true for so much longer, and time hadn't proven Sam wrong the way Davey had always believed it would. Because Sam had done the worst thing he could possibly have done that first day, among all the hitting and shoving and yelling, and that had been to infect Davey with doubt about the newsies. And about Jack. The person he had considered his best friend in the world, Davey now wasn't even sure liked him at all.

And when Sam and the boys had finally decided they had enough, Sam had knelt to the ground and dragged Davey up by the collar of his shirt. "And Dave? I have a paper due in a couple days. I'm supposed to write about a president. Ten pages at least, about why he was the most effective. I want it tomorrow afternoon—meet me here, or we're going to make it even worse for you tomorrow. And it better be good, I'm failing right now." Sam had spit in Davey's face and kicked him in the side, and then walked away, leaving Davey panting on the ground, feeling the same kind of hopeless the Sam had made him feel so many times before.

It had gone on for about two weeks. Davey hadn't told anyone—how could any of this possibly hold a candle to the things all the other newsies had gone through? He was reminded daily of how lucky he was to have folks, to have his own apartment—he had everything, according to them. And it was as if all of a sudden, the very idea of the newsies and Jack and the family he had formed with them, had been ruined. Davey felt like Sam had poisoned him, and now he was unable to feel comfortable with the newsie anymore. He felt like he couldn't trust Jack, and that Crutchie was a liar and Race hated him and none of them really cared about him whatsoever. Every day, Sam reminded him that Davey was all alone. And telling his parents wasn't even an option. They needed Davey to be fine, so he just had to be.

There was, of course, very little evidence of Sam's work. The bruises were mostly limited to his chest, and nobody saw them there. He made sure Les suspected nothing—Davey knew Les was perceptive for a ten year old. None of the newsies had noticed until the night Mush got sick, which only made Davey feel worse, because privately, he had been holding every single one of them responsible for figuring out that something was wrong. Davey had managed to save time every night for Sam's essays and homework and examination preparation; he stayed up an extra hour and got everything done while Les was asleep. It was all eerily similar to his school years: a routine had begun to form around Sam Gates, a routine of pain and depression and finding a way to make it work.

And then everything had changed the night Mush got sick. Race had snapped at him and essentially destroyed any lingering faith in the newsies that Sam had left intact. Davey straightened up and took a deep breath. Well no, he supposed he couldn't blame Sam for that entirely. Sam had planted the doubt, but Davey had lost faith in the newsies on his own.

And that night had basically broken him, Davey thought. After hearing the newsies attack him when he was only trying to help, he gave up. He'd had to console Les first and foremost, but after that he'd felt hopeless. He didn't finish Sam's work, and he hadn't been able to hold the tears back when he went to bed. He knew Les had heard him, but the older brother part of Davey that usually berated him if he ever showed signs of weakness in front of Les had just sat back and let it happen. He had barely slept all night, and when he'd gotten up in the morning, he had felt as if he had lost all of his classic Davey common sense. He decided that he cared about nothing anymore—not Sam's threats, not the newsies, not his life—and so Davey had decided to stand up to Sam. Who the hell would care anyway? What did he have to lose?

Once Davey had made the decision, he'd made sure to give Les to Jack for the day, and he had sold with a newfound determination and ferocity, throwing morality to the wind and lying his face off. He'd sold straight through the day, not stopping for lunch, and had finally sold his last paper at about four o'clock. And then he'd waited for Sam Gates and his crew to show up at the exact spot he'd met them two weeks before.

Davey wished he could go back to that moment and smack himself. It was his own stupidity that had caused this, had caused him to be doubled over by a lamppost, on his way to throw himself at the feet of the only outside party he could think of and beg for help. His pride was killing him just as much as his injuries.

Sam had shown up, of course. At about six, he'd come striding over to Davey, obviously expecting his essay and a timid kid who'd put up no fight when Sam started to beat him up.

He had gotten neither. Davey had stood there, feeling his anger strong inside his chest. He'd waited for Sam to speak.

"Uh oh, somebody forgot to do their homework," Sam had smirked. "I thought we had a deal Davey. I'll give you one more chance, but I think you'd better show up with an extra good paper tomorrow or-"

Davey had exploded then. "Never again," he'd snarled, as he approached Sam. "Will I _ever_ do anything because you told me to." And then he'd thrown the hardest punch of his life.

Looking back, Davey presumed it had been his most heroic moment. But unfortunately it had been just that—a moment. Immediately after Davey had landed his punch, he had been tackled by the other boys, thrown on the ground and immediately put on the defensive. Davey had fought hard; he had almost enjoyed the chance to be able to do something with all the crap he felt inside, but it hadn't been enough. It couldn't possibly have been enough.

Sam had finally let up. Davey had felt even more broken than before, even more angry. His emotions had been everywhere and out of control, in every part of his body there had been strong emotion. Sam and his gang had executed a first rate beating, and Davey had known it. Damn, he had felt it.

And so Davey had lie there on the ground, fighting for breath. Had seen the boys walk casually out of the alleyway as if they'd done nothing more than talk. Had dragged himself up and into a standing position. Had fought through his confusion and exhaustion and tornado of feelings to come to the conclusion that he needed to get somewhere to rest. Had thought of Katherine and her little apartment that she had said was always open to any of the boys. Going to the newsies had out of the question. They hated him.

Davey sighed and straightened up, wincing. The five minutes were up. It was time for him to start walking again.

He had barely taken a step when he heard a familiar voice. He cursed again. Why the hell had he taken a break?

"Davey?" Specs said uncertainly. "Is that you?"

Davey closed his eyes. He had no energy left to care. Whatever happened now would happen. He turned around.

"Holy shit," Davey was vaguely aware of Specs murmuring under his breath. "Are you okay? No, never mind, you clearly ain't. Um—I don't wanna leave you but—yeah, I think I'd better. Dave, I'm gonna go get Jack. I'll be quick, I promise."

Davey nodded. He knew Jack didn't care though. In fact, if he was sure of one thing, it was that no one at all cared.

Davey immediately rejected the idea of trying to make it to Katherine's before Specs got back with Jack. He knew he could never do it.

Davey sat down on the sidewalk, and leaned his head against the lamppost. This had most definitely been the worst day of his life. He wanted to stop being here. Everything hurt, from his head to his heart to his entire body.

Davey let himself start crying. The street blurred together with the night sky until all Davey could see was darkness. But as he waited for Specs to come back with Jack, he made sure never to close his eyes, even though it wouldn't make any difference in what he was able to see. It was the only way he had even a chance of seeing some light.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi everyone! As always, thank you so much for reading this story and for all of the support. I've had a bit of trouble with my computer so that's why updates have been slow. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter and please leave a review!**

Davey sat on one of the bottom bunks in the lodging house, the newsies liked on top of each other around the room. He was fairly certain that he was sitting on Race's bunk, because he could see a cigar on the table adjacent to it, but then again, he wasn't sure. Everything still felt hazy and heavy, and Davey was exhausted. The pain in his ribs had gotten even worse.

Les was right by his side, holding his hand. Amidst all the pain and confusion, Davey was very touched. When Jack and Specs had brought him in, the first thing Davey had seen was Les jumping to his feet and running over to him, attempting to throw his arms around Davey before Jack had held him back and gently explained that Davey was hurt pretty bad and hugging him might make him hurt even worse. And then Davey had seen Les cry, which had only made Davey want to do the same all over again.

Jack and Specs hadn't spoken much on the journey. They had been mostly concentrated on dragging Davey back to the lodging house in a way that was efficient but didn't cause Davey any further pain. Davey didn't remember any specific moments from the experience; he had been too exhausted to really focus on what was going on.

Davey looked tiredly at the gang of boys around him. He felt a pang of familiarity at the situation, and thought back to that same morning, when all the boys had surrounded him at the distribution center, being extra friendly to make up for the night before. He'd initially been overwhelmed at how much they had made hm feel like he belonged, and then almost immediately the feeling had disappeared. He wished he'd been able to hold onto it.

Jack was bent over Davey, pressing his ribs, trying to assess the damage, Davey guessed. His ribs were killing him, but Davey tried to breathe through the pain and held back a wince as Jack touched his side. He got the feeling that newsies didn't cry over cracked ribs.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Les asked quietly, still holding Davey's hand. "He looks really bad."

"'Course he is," Jack said. "It ain't all that bad. He's got a few broken ribs, but nothin' that won't heal after a little while. We's all had 'em before. Only gotta worry if they screw up the breathing. Everything else is rough for sure, and it's gotta hurt a bunch, but he'll live." Jack lightly clapped Davey on the shoulder and moved to sit down. All eyes were on Davey now that Jack had given his report.

"So Dave, you gonna tell us who did this to you so we can kick their asses?" Race said dryly. "Or do you wanna just let 'em get away with it."

"You know, it's-" Davey took a painful breath. "It doesn't matter. It was just some rich kids looking for trouble, I didn't know them. I was alone, I was outnumbered. It happens. Nothing you can do." Davey was speaking in short gasps; he felt like his broken ribs were stabbing into every breath, every word, every movement.

Davey knew why he hadn't told the boys the truth: some part of him didn't feel like a real newsie anymore. Well, he supposed he never fully had, but he had been able to ignore his doubts until Sam had brought them to light. It didn't matter what Jack said, Davey couldn't truly believe that their friendship was genuine anymore.

There must be something wrong with his head, Davey thought to him tiredly. It must be his fault that he had never had any friends- Sam had only revealed the truth. Davey suddenly felt like he needed to be away from these people. He only knew that for some reason, something inside him kept urging him to believe that the newsies didn't care. That all the joy of the past few months was ruined, and he would never be happy. And all at once it felt too overwhelming to think about.

Davey made himself look around at the newsies, gauging their reactions to his explanation. They all seemed to buy it, and if they didn't, well, if Davey was honest with himself, he was too exhausted to worry about it right now.

Davey hadn't even realized that there had been a pause until Jack spoke again, staring up and brushing off his pants. "Okay. Boys, let's keep an eye out for any rich looking bastards around the area. Now get to bed guys, Dave's gotta go to sleep. Race, take my bed, I don't wanna move Davey and I'll be on the roof anyway. Les, you can have the extra one over by Mush, all right kid?" Race grumbled but nodded his assent.

As the newsies climbed into their bunks, Davey eases himself backwards into the bed, sighing before remembering how much it would hurt. His parents were aware that he spent the night at the lodging house sometimes, but he knew he really should have let them know himself. Oh well. It couldn't be helped this time.

Davey saw Jack walk over to him and quickly tried to turn into his side to avoid him before gasping in pain. Jack smirked a little bit as he approached.

"Nice try," Jack said, grinning. "I know you's trying to get out of talking to me." Davey rolled his eyes and Jack's smile faded.

"No, but lemme be serious for a minute. We was all really worried about you tonight. I'm sorry you had to go through what happened to you. The city can be rough sometimes."

Davey grunted. "I'm well aware of the dangers of being alone in New York, Jack. I can usually take care of myself, tonight I couldn't. I'm sure it's happened to all of you."

Davey desperately wanted Jack to go away, but he only peered more closely into Davey's face. "Hey Dave?" Jack asked quietly. "You sure it was just a random group of kids? You sure you's okay? Like I said earlier, you's been a little off lately, and after tonight, I just want to make sure... 'Cause you know Dave, if there was anything we could do to help you, we'd all do it. You know that right? That's what being a newsie means." As Jack finished talking, Davey realized that he was using the same tone of voice he used when he talked to little kids on the street when he brought them food, the same voice he used when he had to explain something to Les. For some reason, it made Davey even more upset.

"I'm fine," Davey said shortly. There was not way Jack could ever know how weak Davey was. How he couldn't even handle an old school bully, how he was so pathetic and stupid that he had let schoolboy insults ruin everything he had.

Davey suddenly found he wanted nothing. No conceivable scenario posed any shred of hope. There was nothing at all he could imagine that would make him feel okay. Davey felt panicked at the realization, so panicked that he felt like he might throw up. He needed Jack to leave him alone.

"I'm fine," Davey said again. He felt incredibly frustrated that Jack wouldn't go.

"Alright," Jack said doubtfully. "If you say so." He stood up and touched Davey's arm. "If you need anything during the night, yell for me, okay?"

Davey nodded, feeling his throat burn and tears come to his eyes. Why couldn't he feel reassured by what Jack was clearly trying to offer? Why couldn't he let anyone help him?

As Jack walked away, Davey looked around the room one last time before closing his eyes. His gaze moved across Specs lifting Buttons up to the bunk above him, over Albert lightly smacking JoJo on the back with his hat and shoving him towards his bed, and finally lingered on Race and Romeo sitting on the floor. Davey strained his eyes and saw the usually sarcastic older newsie with an arm around the younger one, a sight that was out of character for Race but was as clear as day.

And then Davey caught sight of Les, who was pressed up closely against Mush and was tightly gripping his arm. Davey watched as Mush gently pried his arm out of Les's hold and put both of his hands on Les's shoulders so that the boy was facing him. Davey saw Mush's mouth move and saw Les nod and then saw Mush stand Les up in front of him and hug him before putting his hand on his back and ushering him towards the the beds they were to respectively occupy. Davey sighed again, despite the stab of pain in his side. Even though he knew that Les was almost definitely upset over him, Davey felt left out. These boys were clearly a family, and Les was just as much a part of it as any of the other newsies. Why couldn't the same be true for Davey? And he had to admit, as he watched the boys interact with each other, he felt multiple pangs of jealousy. Davey had never been on the receiving end of such comfort; he was always the one giving it. Whenever he was afraid or upset, he had to deal with it, and not only that, but he had to put it aside to be there for Les first.

Davey shook his head slightly, trying to move on from the vortex of self pity. He needed to sleep. He focused all his energy on pushing the unbidden thoughts into the furthest reaches of his mind and took a breath. His only hope was that things would look better in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi everyone-**

 **Once again, I have to apologize for the ridiculously long period of time between now and my last update. Life is hard sometimes, and I haven't really been getting a chance to write at all. But I am determined to finish this story, and I know how it's going to end, so I promise that I am going to work harder on getting it posted.**

 **Anyway, thank you again for all of the incredible reviews, and the follows and favorites I've gotten. They mean so much! I hope you like this chapter.**

"Les," Jack hissed, gently shaking the boy awake. "Wake up, we need to talk about something."

Les opened his eyes slowly and stared blankly at Jack, taking a moment to process what was going on. It was dark out, so Les knew it was still very much nighttime, and so he wondered why on earth Jack was bothering him.

"What do you want?" Les mumbled, rolling over. "I wanna go back to sleep."

"I know you do, but I need to ask you a favor, okay? It's important, I promise."

Les sat up slowly. "It's about Davey, isn't it?

"Yeah, yeah it is. Can you get up? We's going to the roof, I don't want no one hearin' us."

Les rubbed his eyes and looked around the dark lodging house. Everyone else was asleep. He fought the urge to lie back down; he knew Jack must really need him to wake up him up in the middle of the night. And if it was about his brother, then Les was all ears.

"Thanks, kid," Jack whispered as Les stood up. "Come on, this way?"

Les felt Jack's hand on his back, directing him to the fire escape that would give them access to the roof. As they crept through the quiet room, in the fog of his exhaustion, Les's thoughts wandered back to Davey. Seeing him get beat up had been a shock—even during the strike, he hadn't been hurt too badly, but now, he had broken ribs and bruises and wasn't talking about it. Les had always sort of thought of Davey as immune to the things that affected the other newsies, but tonight, he had been proven wrong.

They reached the window, and Les felt Jack lift him onto the fire escape. The night air was cold and sharp, but Les didn't mind; it woke him up quickly. And he could sort of see why Jack liked being awake at night too, there was something cool about having the city to yourself. Les felt like he owned the night.

Jack pushed him gently in the direction of the ladder that connected to the roof. Les began to climb, slowly and carefully, and heard Jack start to follow behind him.

They finally reached the roof, and Les had to stare. He'd never been up at night; he knew it was Jack's time to be alone and had never wanted to intrude on that. But it was amazing, and Les would have been happy to just sit and observe all the lights and streets and stars and buildings all night.

"Nice, huh?" Jack asked, coming up behind him and putting a hand on Les's shoulder. "Like it?"

"Yeah," Les said softly.

They stood in silence for a moment, Les deep in thought. His relationship with the newsies felt so easy to him; he felt just as close to them as he did to his parents. But he was starting to realize that it wasn't like that for Davey. Les knew things had always been harder for his brother, and, with a stir of guilt, it dawned on him that he had never really cared that much. It had just been the way things were.

"Alright, ready to talk?" Jack asked, and Les turned all of his attention to him. He was ready to do whatever he needed to do to help Davey.

Jack sat down, and Les copied him, leaning against the side of roof.

"So, I know you know there's something wrong with your brother. I'm guessing you got about as much of a clue as I do about what it is?" Jack asked, looking closely at Les.

"Yeah," Les said quietly. "He didn't tell me anything… but I heard him—crying last night."

"Crying?" Jack repeated. "Damn."

"I hope he's okay," Les said. It seemed like a stupid thing to say, but that was all he was hoping for Davey right now. That he would be okay.

"That's the thing Les, I don't really think he is. So I's gonna ask you a favor. I want you to keep an eye on him. You guys live together, you go lots of places together, you's brothers. So I need you to stay close to him, see if you notice anything or can figure anything out. Can you do that?"

"Sure," Les said. It would be his turn to take care of Davey, after all of the times Davey had taken care of him. It would be Les getting to make it up to Davey for the time Les had been so sick and Davey had sat up with him all night while he threw up, not even leaving to change his clothes when some of the vomit had gotten on his pants. And for the time Davey had won that essay contest and spent half of the meager cash prize on a toy for Les for his birthday. And for the strike, when Davey had saved him from the Delanceys and always made sure someone was protecting Les from getting hurt. Les almost felt proud that there was finally something he could do in return.

"Good. And if you do notice anything, tell me right away. We's gonna figure this out and fix it for Davey, okay?"

"Okay," Les whispered. "I'm glad you noticed something's wrong Jack. I mean, besides him getting beat up. Sometimes I feel like there's nobody who sees when he has problems, even I don't a lot of the times."

"Yeah," Jack said, resting his arms on his knees and looking out at the city skyline. "Yeah, that's somethin' that's my fault. I think we gotta pay more attention to him, not just assume he's fine because he ain't on the streets and stuff. You know? It's the same with you. I gotta work on that."

Silence fell between them again, and Les felt a little bit better. Jack would fix everything for Davey, and Les would do his part do make things better for him. He closed his eyes, letting the cold New York air rush past his face and imagining a world where Davey was happy.

Suddenly he felt a gentle prod in his side. "Hey, hey," Jack was saying, smirking. "Open your eyes. We gotta get you downstairs and back to bed, and I don't want you falling down the ladder 'cause you's too tired to see the steps."

Les grinned sheepishly and rubbed his eyes, watching as Jack stood up in front of him and then accepting his outstretched hand and letting Jack pull him up. As he began to climb down the ladder—slowly and carefully, with Jack right behind him—he felt a little better, a little more secure in the knowledge that there were people, himself included, who were going to help Davey to be okay.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys-**

 **Thank you again for all the support you have shown for this story, in the form of reviews or follows or favorites of even just reading it. It's still so exciting every time I read someone's feedback on something I've written. And, miraculously, it's been less than a month since my last update, so I am getting better at posting, and I will try to continue that. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

Davey blinked as the soft brightness of the morning flowed in through the cracked filter of the dirty lodging house windows. He was unused to being woken up by the sunlight; usually he got up while it was still dark and the city was relatively dormant. He had never been a good sleeper anyway, so he typically woke multiple times during the night. Davey shifted in his bed, gasping slightly as he accidentally put weight on his ribs. Especially given his injuries, he had slept unusually soundly.

Looking around the room, he concluded that he was alone. Of course, he realized, it was a regular selling day. The newsies had to sell to pay for their lodging, to buy themselves food. Davey knew he couldn't expect any of them to stay behind, that wasn't fair. Still, with a prickle of jealousy that he felt disgusted about, Davey thought that if it had been Crutchie who had been hurt, everyone would have cared a lot more. At least Jack, if not Race and maybe others, would have refused to sell to remain with Crutchie.

Davey sat up, wincing, and sighed, forgetting how much it would hurt his chest. He caught sight of a grimy and crumpled piece of paper folded up on the little table next to the bed, and he grabbed it. It was a note from Jack.

"Dave,

Hope you's feeling better. We had to go sell, but we'll be back at lunch to check on ya. I took Les with me again, and we's gonna stop by your folks' place and let them know you's with us. Everything's fine. Just sleep and stay in bed, yeah? See ya later. "

The bottom of the paper, almost cut off at the end, read, "Feel better Davey!" Davey recognized Les's harsh handwriting and smiled. He appreciated the note, he really did. And he was impressed by Jack's sensitivity too; he'd clearly thought about not only taking care of Les, but also communicating with his parents. He was a good friend, Davey couldn't deny it. But that meant that it was Davey's fault that he still wasn't satisfied; he truly was out of place. It wasn't that the newsies weren't trying to make him feel part of their family, it was that Davey was impossible to be welcomed. Davey wanted to cry. He'd been wrong, things hadn't looked better in the morning.

Judging by the fact that the light streaming in was still soft and warm, not quite the stark and unforgiving heat of midday, Davey guessed that he had some time before Jack and Les came back. He thought about trying to go back to sleep, and then abandoned the idea. Instead, he stood up slowly, wincing, but biting his tongue to make himself keep going, and moved towards one of the drawers. He stuck his hand inside and moved it around, finally landing it on a grubby pencil and some paper. Davey had always been an excellent writer; in school, even though he'd never been allowed to write about the things he wanted to, his teachers had always told him he was talented. And writing had always made him feel better too—sometimes, on paper, Davey could manipulate words to make him believe things that his brain just wouldn't accept otherwise. Perhaps, now, too, if he wrote down everything he felt, it might be therapeutic. To talk to himself, in a way, about things that he could never say to anyone else in his life.

Davey carefully sat back down on the side of the bunk, curling his fist around the pencil and resting his chin on his hand. He stared out the window, imagining everything that he knew would be going on outside the lodging house. There were rich couples riding in carriages, existing in their own world of luxury, and dirt poor families cowering in the slums. And of course, throughout it all, there were newsies. Newsies who came from backgrounds of abuse and pain and abandonment, of dead family members and poverty, who had formed a family because they had no biological ones to speak of. And there was Davey, hidden, like a castaway, in the very place that housed so much suffering—suffering that Davey felt ashamed of not having—who didn't belong anywhere.

Davey uncurled his hand and pressed the pencil to the paper. He began to write.

* * *

Les flung himself onto Davey's bed. Jack and Crutchie had convinced his brother to try and walk outside to get some fresh air, and Davey had begrudgingly agreed, leaving Les alone in the lodging house. His day with Jack had been fine, he supposed. They'd sold exceptionally well, earning enough to make up for Davey's absence, and when they'd gone to Les's apartment to check in, his parents hadn't even been too mad that the boys had stayed over with the newsies without telling them first. Which was surprising, Les noted, because usually they would have been livid, threatening to not let Davey and Les sell again (which all four of them knew was an empty threat; they needed the money, but still). Les had seen his parents exchange a significant look, which he had wondered about, but he had let it go.

And now Les was left to focus on the task set to him by Jack: find out what was up with Davey. He sat up and knelt on the bed, staring out the window to where Davey and the rest of the newsies were talking and roughhousing. His brother was perched on an abandoned cart, next to Crutchie, and the two were conversing, but Les could see that Davey was tense, not relaxed and at ease like all the others. Les sighed. This was going to be difficult.

As he flopped back down on the mattress, Les heard a slight noise from beneath him—it sounded like paper? He immediately lifted up the pillow his head had been resting on and gasped. He'd been right, there was a neatly folded sheet of paper lying right there. Without a second thought about invading his brother's privacy—he was doing this for Davey's own good, after all—Les spread out the note, and recognizing Davey's meticulously neat handwriting, set about deciphering the incredibly fancy words that were a trademark of all of his brother's writing—Les remembered receiving birthday cards from him that seemed to be written in a foreign language. Even though Les had never been a particularly good reader, he concentrated on sounding out all the letters and syllables, just like Davey had taught him.

It took him a while to get to the end, and although Les was certain Davey wouldn't have approved of the material with which he was practicing, Les almost wished his brother had been there to witness how much he had improved as a reader. But more importantly, Les held in his hands the explicit explanation for Davey's behavior. Les was shocked at how much pain Davey had gone through, without telling anyone. Les remembered Sam, but couldn't believe he was tormenting his brother again. But at least that part he understood; all of the complicated feelings of loneliness and no one understanding that Davey had so eloquently detailed, Les couldn't quite grasp. He needed to show this to Jack, who was an expert on understanding people.

Les tucked the piece of paper in his pocket and launched himself off the bed, charging out the door to find Jack. He'd done his job. Now it was Jack's turn.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi everyone,**

 **First of all, thank you so much for reading this story, and being patient through my ridiculously slow updates, and empty promises to write more often. It's been about four months, I think, since I've last posted, which I apologize for: some stuff happened over the past few months and I just kind had to put this away for a little bit. Recently, I've wanted to come back to this story and to fan fiction in general, because I guess I've sort of realized that it's kind of therapeutic for me, in a way, getting to work with characters I love and putting them through the things that I need to see them go through, if that makes sense. Not to mention the fact that people actually READ MY STUFF which is honestly still crazy. I know I say that all the time but its true. I can't believe people like what I share and leave reviews telling me to keep going. I can't believe I have over 30 people following this-to me, that's huge.**

 **I love Newsies and will always love Newsies. I love Davey and Jack and Les and even Crutchie (I know, I know, not loving Crutchie is very unpopular, but I can't help it- go check out Ostrichonarampage if you want to read some incredible Crutchie stuff) and I love the story and what it stands for. I love that I'm a part of this community. So this story is for all of you, all of the Newsies fans who are, in my opinion, "forgotten heroes". And I promise that I'll try my hardest to actually finish it. (Don't worry, I will :))**

 **Thank you endlessly for all the support. I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think!**

\- **HPNewsie**

Les stood next to Jack, looking up at his hero with desperate hope. After a few days, they were finally confronting Davey about the note Les had found under the pillow, and Les was nervous to say the least. Davey hadn't been Davey at all lately, so Les had no idea how this was going to go. Jack hadn't even wanted Les to be here for this, but Les had insisted. Davey was his brother, after all.

"What do you want, Jack?" Davey asked, leaning against a nearby streetlight and running a hand over his face. His bruises had healed a lot, but they were still there, and Les noticed them every time he looked at his brother's face. He wanted to hurt Sam Gates. Les knew he was a shrimp compared to Sam—Jack called him a midget all the time and Sam was even bigger than Jack was—but Les didn't really care. He bit his lip nervously as Jack opened his mouth to speak.

"Dave, Les here found somethin' of yours and I ain't gonna beat around the bush about it, 'cause we's all worried about ya and you ain't helping us understand. So pal, you wanna explain this?" Jack held up the piece of paper and raised his eyebrows. Les felt at least a little bit relieved. Jack was still the same old fearless leader, taking control and leaving no room for argument.

Davey's eyes narrowed and Les saw his jaw clench. "Les, so help me God—"

Les looked down at the ground, trying to avoid his brother's anger at all costs. He couldn't take Davey being mad at him, not _really_ mad. Annoyed, worried, exasperated, sure, that was all normal. But Les could count on one hand the number of times Davey had been truly angry with him. And he most definitely did not want to suffer through a Davey explosion ever again.

"Hey Dave, this ain't the kid's fault. I told him to scout around and see if he could figure out what was buggin' ya. And besides, you really should'a picked a better hiding spot." Jack put a hand on Les's shoulder and smirked slightly at his last comment. Davey rolled his eyes.

"Jack, just mind your own damn business, okay? It's fine, I didn't mean any of that stuff I wrote. Forget about it. Please."  
"No you idiot, I ain't gonna forget about it. We know what's wrong now! Those guys that worked you over? Wasn't just a random bunch'a kids. How about that Sam Gates guys, making you do all his work for him? Roughing you up? Yeah, we know, Dave. So why don't ya be a pal and admit that you's got a lot goin' on and need some damn help!"

Jack finished his thought, breathing heavily through his nose. And Les, standing small beside him and feeling like only a pawn in Davey and Jack's epic game of chess, (Davey had long ago taught him to play) looked up at Davey hopefully, wondering if things would ever be the same.

* * *

Davey felt a little like he'd been punched in the face. The atmosphere was so incredibly tense, what with the tears squeezing out of Les's eyes and Jack breathing heavily and Davey himself feeling so recklessly angry and just _done._ Done with all of this. Done with trying to support his entire family all on his own and taking care of Les and being invalidated by the newsies and Sam Gates and his father's obsession with his sons' educations and hating and missing school at the same time and worrying about whether or not he meant as much to Jack as Jack did to him. He was _done,_ and he was aware, in some separate sphere of his mind, that it was all about to come out.

"All right then, _Jackie,_ you wanna know what's wrong?" Davey sneered, putting as much sarcasm he could into the affectionate nickname that he had adopted during the strike. "Let's see, where should I start? Maybe with the fact that even after weeks of selling with you guys, after I played a _significant_ role in the strike's success, after I've brought you all jars of my mom's homemade soup and old clothes of mine and done everything I possibly could to belong, it's _still_ not good enough for me to be considered one of you. I know I'm not an orphan and I'm not sleeping on the streets, but here's a headline for ya Jack! I'm poor too! No matter how hard I try, I can't change the fact that I got folks. And I'm sorry my injuries aren't as good as yours, and I'm sorry that, as Race so eloquently put it, "I ain't never known the kind of pain you have". But I got a wagonload of problems I gotta deal with. All this Sam Gates crap? I know it's not quite as important as, you know, _the Refuge_ or anything like that, but it kinda stinks, Jack. The jerk's been roughing me up since I was barely a kid. I haven't ever been to school without him picking on me. School isn't the glamorous wonderland you think it is. It's been hell for me, with the teachers treating me like a rat because my family didn't pay their salaries, and the kids, not just Sam, but others too, making my life miserable. You know something? I've never even had a real friend. I know you and the newsies have got your perfect family of brothers, and that's great Jack, really, but in all my years at school, I've never gotten to have what you all have. I hate it there, Jack. I love learning, sure, I love reading and history and being informed, but I hate that damned place, it never taught me anything I couldn't have learned myself from a book. My dad getting laid off is the best thing that ever happened to me, 'cause Les and I got to be newsies and I felt like I had friends for once. But I guess I was wrong, because I'm clearly not a newsie, not really, I'm not good enough for you guys, and when my dad's leg heals I'm going straight back to that prison where I get beat up at least three times a week and sit in the back of the class while the rich kids get everything and we only learn what the tyrannical teachers want us to know! I'm alone Jack, all alone. So yeah, I got some stuff going on, and I know I'm always the forgotten hero next to you, Jack Kelly, you and your charming audacity and your bold loyalty that made me think you were my best friend, but if that's the way it's gonna be, then I guess I'll have to get used to it and figure out how to damn well live with it!" Davey was screaming now, really, truly, screaming. A couple crossing the street looked at him with shocked expressions on their faces, but Davey only glared back at them.

Jack, it seemed, was speechless for once, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Les was sobbing; tears were pouring down his face, and Jack was halfheartedly rubbing his arm in an attempt to console him. _Of course,_ Davey thought sardonically. _Les gets the comfort and attention. It's not like I've ever had someone take care of me like that._

Davey scrubbed a hand over his face and realized that he, too, was crying, hot, angry, violent tears. He didn't meet Jack's eyes or even acknowledge Les's distress; it was all he could do not to throw himself at Jack and start attacking him out of sheer desperation. So Davey did all he could think to do: scoff loudly (which, he was well aware, came out sounding more like a pathetic wet sob than a disdainful criticism) and storm away, the angry tears like blood as they seeped into the corners of his mouth.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Hi everyone - this is going to be a bit of a long author's note, but as it has been literally a year since I last posted, I have a lot I want to say.**

 **Even though we face a lot of ridicule for reading and writing it, I believe fan fiction is important. It lets us be a part of the stories we love, get to know the characters we love. For me, it gives me comfort from the places from which I'd like it most. I wrote this story because I often feel like a forgotten hero, and I have faced a lot of invalidation and doubt from the people around me. It always bothered me the way people compare their struggles, as if some are worthy of more sympathy or make you deserving of less help. So much of Newsies fan fiction is about the pain of Crutchie, or Jack, or Race or Romeo or any of the newsies, but very few stories are about what Davey has to face. So that's what I was trying to write about here. I wanted to give Davey a chance to be seen and recognized for his strength, to be congratulated and rewarded for all he has overcome. And in doing so, in writing about Davey, I wanted to shine on a light on everyone who has ever felt like a forgotten hero.**

 **Thank you so incredibly much to everyone who has supported me and this story. The follows and favorites, and especially the reviews, mean so much to me. It's crazy to think that this story has been a part of anyone's life even in a tiny, tiny way. So if you've ever felt forgotten or alone, this is for you, because I promise, you are worthy of being remembered and validated for everything you are.**

 **Thank you for reading, and keep carrying the banner. ;)**

 **-HPNewsie**

"Hey! Listen up!" Jack hollered at the top of his lungs, trying to wrangle his newsies into silence for just a second. Les had taken up his place right by Jack's side, which seemed to be where he always was these days, since Davey had gone off the rails. Poor kid hadn't known what to do without his brother worrying over him all the time.

"Whaddya want, captain?" Race yelled up at Jack. "We're tryin' ta play a game of cards here, and you ain't helping."

Jack scoffed. "Don't care about your cards, Race. This is important. Get the fellas to listen, will ya?" Race rolled his eyes, but motioned for the rest of the newsies to quiet down.

"Hey everyone, King Jackie's got a procklemation!" Jack was vaguely certain that Race had messed up that last word, but without Davey here to correct him, Jack had no idea what the right one would be. It only reminded Jack how much he needed his second in command.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Jack waved his arms impatiently over the mocking shouts of adoration. Les shuffled his feet nervously next to him, and Jack rested a hand on the kid's shoulder, trying to calm him.

"So I talked to Dave," Jack began. Les nudged him. "Sorry, _we_ talked to Dave."

"You figure out why he's been acting so funny?" Crutchie asked. Jack couldn't help but smile- Crutchie had been so worried about Davey, and although Jack wouldn't admit it under threat of death, he always felt a little soft inside when he saw his boys taking care of each other. It was a secret he'd take to the grave.

"Yeah, Crutch, we did," Jack said with a smile. As much as his heart ached for all the pain Davey had revealed, he also couldn't help but be impressed by how much fiery anger had been in his friend's words. Jack wouldn't have thought he had it in him.

Speaking of things Jack didn't know about Davey—clearly, there were a lot. And the guy had gone through a lot more than Jack had ever given him credit for, which Jack was beginning to realize. A significant portion of the newsies' banter was centered around solidarity, brotherhood, exclusivity—the newsies were not entirely trusting of strangers, to say the least. Most of them had lived together for years, had grown up together. Jack knew they were bitter and jealous of any semblance of a "good" life; Davey was the closest thing to a reminder—the ever present, living, talking, somewhat pompous (however brilliant), reminder—that such a life did exist.

And now that he thought about it, Jack could see how that might have affected Davey. The guy had sacrificed everything to help lead the strike, had risked his own safety and the well being of his family, to be part of the newsies. He had always been willing to do anything for the boys—he'd taught about half of them how to write their names, put up with their constant teasing, covered the costs of their lodging when they couldn't quite make ends meet. Davey had done everything he could. And Jack had never really thought about it from Davey's point of view before. He was the sole provider for his family, responsible for taking care of them all, constantly keeping an eye on Les—the poor guy never got a break.

Jack looked down at all the guys surrounding him: Race rolling his eyes at one of Romeo's dumb comments, no doubt, Specs quietly paying attention, as was his way, Crutchie shushing the younger ones. And Les, standing beside Jack, leaning against his arm. And for all the times Davey had taken care of them, Jack realized—all the times Jack had seen him hold Les when he hurt himself, or talk Specs down from an outburst, stay up all night with any one of the boys when they couldn't sleep—no one had ever taken care of Davey. And he sure as hell deserved that. Davey deserved to get it all back. These guys were his brothers, every one of 'em. And Jack was gonna make damn sure that Davey knew it, knew how much a part of this screwed up family of orphans and runaways and dirty, raggedy, beat up kids Davey was. How respected and honored he was. How everything that Davey had gone through was just as real as what the newsies had, even if it took them a while to realize it. How any of the newsies—even Race, with his impossibly thick skull—would fight City Hall for him.

So Jack cleared his throat, gripped Les's shoulder tighter. Winked down at Crutchie and nodded to himself. This was for Davey.

* * *

Les bounced up and down as he stood on Katherine's doorstep next to Jack. Things had turned around quickly. Davey had spent the past few days speaking to the newsies only when necessary, and always with a bitterness that lodged itself in Les's heart when he heard it. Les had lost his brother, and it had been the worst few days of his life.

But then Jack had swooped in and saved the day as usual, with a brilliant plan that would fix everything. And Les got to be his right hand man, got to be second in command (well, that's what Jack told him, anyway) while they put that plan into action. Les couldn't wait for everything to go back to normal.

The door to Katherine's apartment swung open, and Katherine appeared, looking surprised to see them. Les was eager to get a look inside Katherine's home, so he peeked his head inside as he heard Jack pull her into his arms and kiss her. Les had long ago gotten over the shock of seeing Jack kiss a girl, so he was far more interested in seeing what the apartment looked like. And he was severely disappointed: Les knew that Katherine was Pulitzer's daughter, and Pulitzer was one of the richest men in New York, so how come her apartment wasn't even that much nicer than Les's own?

"Hey Katherine, why are you so poor?" Les asked, without even a second thought. He thought it a fair enough question, but clearly Jack didn't, because the older boy smacked the back of his head a little harder than could have been considered merely playful.

"Hey, shut it, short stuff," Jack grunted, gripping Les's neck and yanking him back to Jack's side. "Ain't any of your business in the first place. For God's sake, ain't Davey taught ya any manners? Even I know that comment should'a stayed inside that big trap of yours, kid. Sorry, Plums, been babysittin' the little squirt for the past week and he ain't exactly Prince Charming."

Les stiffened, and stayed quiet as Jack continued his lecture. It wasn't that he minded Jack talking at him so much (although Les stood by his question), but Jack bringing up Davey kind of hurt. Because Davey _had_ taught him manners. He had taught Les just about everything. From taking his first steps to reading his first word, Davey had been there. Davey had raised him, pretty much. Les knew that the newsies liked to make fun of he and his brother for having a "perfect" family, but Les was beginning to realize that it wasn't really like that at all. His dad had been in and out of work since Les was born, his mother was always angry and worried, and Les had been Davey's responsibility for as long as Les could remember. _Davey_ had held him when he cried—calmly, rationally explaining to Les exactly why everything was going to be alright. _Davey_ had explained to him the meanings of words Les knew he wasn't supposed to know, and played pirates with him in the evenings. _Davey_ had been the one to step in that time Les had run away from him on the way to school: _Davey_ had held him still until Les stopped squirming and explained exactly how important it was that Les stay with him at all times. Davey had protected him at all costs. And, Les understood now, there had never been anyone protecting Davey.

As Jack finished up his rant about manners—which Les had entirely tuned out—and stepped inside the apartment, Les followed, and plopped himself in the ragged armchair that stood beside the tiny kitchen. Jack leaned against the slightly rotten wall and began to outline his plan. Now _this_ Les was interested in.

"…So, you think old man Pulitzer will do it for you? If ya ask nice? It's a good idea, ain't it?" Jack was gesturing wildly, staring earnestly into Katherine's eyes as he finally finished up his speech. She was smiling and nodding, which Les took as a good sign, so he decided to seal the deal with his patented pape-selling technique, a heartbroken pout that even Jack sometimes couldn't resist.

"Please, Katherine? You gotta ask, you just gotta!"

Katherine rolled her eyes kindly—she knew Les's routine well but was nonetheless susceptible to his less than honest charms— and ruffled his hair. "You got it, Les," she said. "I'll go talk to my father this afternoon. Let's do this. For Davey."

And Les beamed, heart pumping excitedly at the fact that finally, _finally,_ the brother he loved so deeply was going to get the reward he deserved. _Yes. For Davey._

* * *

Davey's fists were shoved deep in his pockets, pushing at the worn seams. He was still feeling the residual anger from his confrontation with Jack a few weeks ago, and here he was, heading over to the Lodging House to see him again. It was the last thing he wanted to do.

For the past few weeks, he'd been living apathetically. He'd wake up Les, walk him to the distribution center and buy him his papers, watch him run off with Jack, and start selling alone. Davey wasn't pulling in as much profit as he usually did; his heart just wasn't in it, but he was scraping by. He stayed away from the newsies, particularly Jack, his parents, and of course, Sam Gates and his crew. Unsurprisingly, he was more alone than he had ever been, and utterly miserable.

So what did he have to lose by meeting Jack? At this point, he could take whatever disappointment he was sure was coming his way. Maybe Jack would tell him that Les was _his_ brother now—after all, Jack would be a more fun big brother to Les, and given how perfect Jack was at taking care of people (everyone except Davey himself), maybe Les would be better off. Davey gritted his teeth. As he neared the lodging house, he resigned himself to even more profound suffering in an almost masochistic fashion, and before he knew, he was standing in front of the lodging house door, ready to face all these people who had hurt him beyond belief. Davey collected himself, nodded resolutely, and swung open the door. Whatever happened, he could take it.

Later, Davey would think about how what he saw when he walked into the lodging house that day was the absolute last thing he would ever have expected to see. Ever. Because packed into the tiny front room of the building, perched on broken wooden chairs and crammed into corners, were all the newsies, broad grins beaming from their faces, each of them holding a stack of books in their arms. Jack stood in the middle of it all, one arm around Katherine, who smiled shyly at Davey, and the other around Les, who bounced up and down with pride.

Davey had no idea what to make of this incredibly ironic situation: a bunch of illiterate teenage boys surrounded by books. He looked uncertainly to Jack, who gently untangled himself from Katherine and Les and stepped forward.

"Surprise, Dave," he said, gesturing to the scene behind him.

"What- what is this, Jack? I don't understand." It was all happening too quickly for Davey to process. He'd come to the lodging house today expecting a battle, an exchange of bitter words, maybe even blows. This was a far cry from the hostile environment he had prepared himself for.

"It's all for you Davey! Katherine talked to Pulitzer and got you all these books, so you can read and learn and stuff! It was all Jack's idea, he's been planning this for weeks and he wanted to—" Les shot forward, smiling uncontrollably.

"No need to sell me so hard, kid. I ain't a phony headline. " There was Jack, with his easy charm, his protective air, moving Les to the side so he could look Davey in the eye.

"It's true, Dave. Short stuff didn't explain it too well, but Katherine here talked to her old man and got a pretty good deal out of him. He let her raid his big old library and take whatever she wanted, for a cheaper price. We got everything, Katherine says, there's the classic stuff, and Shakespeare, and boring old crap about politics and economy and history, and some guy named Charles Dickbocker-"

"Dickens," Davey said with a weepy chuckle, as he surreptitiously tried to wipe a tear from his eye. Jack did this—for him?

"Yeah, Dickens. Whatever. We even got one of Pulitzer's fancy teacher pals to teach you one on one on Sundays, free of charge. You're all set, Dave. All the boys and I, we all helped and brought all this smarty pants junk over here, and we all threw in a little of our savings to buy it all for you. And—we're gonna catch up with the scum who hurt you, teach 'em a little lesson. Nobody messes with our boys. Sam Gates won't know what hit him. We got you, Davey. We got you."

Davey held eye contact with Jack, watching his genuine enthusiasm radiate from every part of him. He took in all the newsies, who had sacrificed their hard earned money for something whose value was abstract to them, but real to Davey, which made it important. Who were going to physically fight for him, stand up for him, protect him. _We got you, Davey._ These guys had his back in a way he never could have expected. And Jack, the great orchestrator, his best friend in the world, his brother—

"Come here, Dave," Jack beckoned gruffly. "Our turn to take care of you." And Jack pulled Davey roughly into an embrace. Davey was vaguely aware of how strange this was for him, how unused to being cared for he was, but mostly he focused on Jack, Jack who had done his best, and when that wasn't enough, did even better for Davey, Jack whose arms were around him, literally and figuratively supporting him, holding him up. Davey couldn't hold it back anymore, and tears began to fall, picking up speed as Davey let himself relax for what he felt like was the first time in years.

"Hey, keep your tears away from my shirt, ya big crybaby," Jack grumbled, and Davey laughed and wiped his face. Jack finally let go, and Davey straightened up.

"Jack," he said, looking seriously into Jack's eyes. "Thank you. I mean it, I can't even begin—"

"Save the big words for the books, Davey," Jack said, putting his hands on Davey's shoulders. "Happy to do it."

And Jack, a man of few words when it came to heart to hearts, had put their feud to rest, apologized with the most thoughtful gesture Davey could have imagined, and Davey couldn't be more relieved.

The rest of the newsies were piling towards him, setting their stacks of books on the ground and pushing their way towards Davey himself. Les launched himself at his brother, yelling "I knew it all along and I didn't tell! Right, Davey? I didn't tell!" and Davey smiled, kneeling down to give the little boy his full attention and wrapping him in a hug. "Thanks Les," he whispered, putting his hand on the back of the kid's head.

And that moment was followed by so many more. Race, in his impatient affection, clapping him on the back and offering what, had any of the younger boys been brave enough to point it out, might have been a hug. Specs shyly offering him a copy of _Treasure Island_ and asking if Davey might help him read it. Romeo squeezing him around the middle without shame, telling Davey that he couldn't wait until Davey was president and they'd see him in the papers every day. Katherine resting a hand on his arm and kissing him on the cheek. Crutchie, limping up and saying "You're a real brave guy, Davey. I'm honored to be your friend. " And Jack, never one to be left out of the action, yelling out, "We're proud of ya Dave, ain't we fellas?"

And the comment was greeted with a chorus of "yeah" and whooping, as Les rested his head on Davey's hip and everyone surrounded him. Jack approached him and slung an arm around his shoulder, and Davey was in the center of a horde of his brothers who had proven that they would do anything for him. And in that moment, Davey Jacobs _was_ their hero, no longer forgotten, but immortalized by the brotherhood of newsboys who would always be his family.


End file.
